Admissions and Confessions
by SourCrumb
Summary: The dust has settled, so Deacon brought whiskey to Nora's.


"C'mon, if we can't talk about this over whiskey, when CAN we talk about it, Charmer?"

Nora could feel the flush creeping up her neck. She'd be red as a tomato before long. She had a feeling Deacon was making that his mission.

It had been almost a year since she'd stumbled out into the Commonwealth, dusting frost off her vault suit, shaking and scared. She'd come a long way since then, and so had the world around her. The Institute had been caved in months ago. Her son, such as he was, lived in Sanctuary now. Codsworth had been more than happy, thrilled really, to have the chance to care for him again.

She'd been just as grateful to give him up, truth be told.

After all, he wasn't Shaun. Wasn't really. Shaun had been buried with the tech and the dirt, lost to her forever... Really though, hadn't that always been the case? The way things had turned out, she still couldn't see any path that could have led her family to a happy ending. And she spent a LOT of time trying.

Searching for Shaun had swallowed her up. Her brain and body had been driven by the single purpose of finding her son, and now that it was all over... Now that she had little more to take care of than a rogue or troubled settlement here and there...

Well, it was time to focus in on herself now, wasn't it?

She'd only just begun to let her hair down when she got word that Deacon was back in town. Someone told someone, who told someone else, who told Nora at the third party in a row that Hancock threw for her. She'd been so high at the time she wasn't sure if she heard correctly, but after confirming it in the very groggy hours of the morning, she'd felt something inside her flip like nothing else.

Deacon had needed some time for himself after the casualties of battle. The loss of Glory and Drummer Boy hit him hard, and being anywhere near the former HQ hurt him too much to bear. He'd given her a quick salute and a ghost of his usual cocky grin before he'd headed out into the sunset. She knew it was for the best, but she'd also known something else, something tugging at the corners of her stomach and tapping gently at her heart.

She had no real idea when it had happened, but somewhere between all the shoot-outs and drop-offs, she'd gone and done something very, very stupid. She'd fallen head over heels for Deacon, and she both hated and savoured every second of it.

"We need to talk about you and your lonely nights," he went on, refilling both their glasses. It was round four. "Besides the needs of the flesh, it'd be safer... safety in numbers, right?"

"Says the man who prides himself on being a lone wolf," she teased, sipping her drink while he knocked half his back in one go. She watched his throat move and she bit into the soft skin inside her cheek. As if having a crush wasn't awkward enough, she had to go and pick one of the most perceptive men alive as the object of her affections. It was a constant battle with herself, making sure she didn't brush against him while walking together, keeping her expression neutral whenever he did something that made her insides warm. The butterflies inside her were begging to burst out, but she had to keep this thing in check. Romance was nice, sure, but a friend like Deacon? They didn't come around very often. Not in the old world, and especially not in the new.

He leaned against the wall of her kitchen, and it was hard to keep herself from staring. Deacon was incredible. He could put a bullet between a raider's eyes from a mile away and he could talk the legs off a table. He was strong and capable, brave and loyal, but cautious. Above all else, she loved his caution. The world he'd experience had been cruel beyond words. By now she knew almost everything about his past, much as he did hers. The bigot and the lawyer. The widow and the widower. They made quite a pair.

The clunk of his empty glass hitting her counter startled her back to the present. "You ok there?" He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, staring down at her. Did he look concerned? Maybe a little? It was impossible to tell. She sighed.

"Sure, sorry. Just got a little lost in thought."

"At my suggestion? Oh, do say yes." His grin was a mile wide and she made another face at him.

"Shut up. I have Dogmeat to protect me. He's the only man I need in my life."

"Is that why he isn't here?"

She shrugged. "It's Nat's birthday this weekend. I let Piper borrow him so she could play pretend. You know how bad that kid wants a dog."

"A batch of puppies will turn up eventually. Always does. Then she can have the news-hound she's always wanted and I don't need to worry about you on your own."

"You worry about me?"

He smiled, and her heart seemed to stop. "Of course I worry about you, Charmer. Nobody else puts up with my bullshit the way you do."

They had both emptied their glasses. He raised the bottle to refill hers, but she slid her hand over top. "No thanks."

"Really?"

"It's been a wild couple of days. Hancock knows how to throw a party. Multiple parties, really."

Deacon set the bottle down, leaving both their glasses dry. "Sorry I missed that. Here, scoot over." He waited as she rearranged herself before plopping down into the spot next to her, spreading his arms out across the top. She felt his wrist graze the back of her neck and she couldn't help the goosebumps on her arms as a result. "Hancock, eh? Y'know, he'd make an all right companion for you."

She chuckled. "It might have crossed my mind a few times... maybe also his."

One eyebrow rose up from under his lenses, but he said nothing.

"But, really, I'm not one to kiss and tell," she continued, feeling that damn blush coming back. No. She needed to take control of this. She could do this. She could have casual sex and discuss casual sex. Right? That was something friends did, wasn't it?

Now both brown were sky high. "Shut up. You and the Mayor? I gotta be honest... I didn't see that coming."

"You just suggested it!"

"I didn't think you'd agree, much less confirm." There was nothing in his voice to give away what he was thinking. Had she gone too far, somehow?

"It wasn't anything serious." The whiskey was warm in her stomach, and her lips felt loose. "Just a fumble in the dark... Hancock isn't really the flowers and chocolates type." She laughed, trying to regain the playful tone they'd had only moments ago.

"Is that what you want? Flowers and chocolates?"

"Nate was pretty good for flowers. Always remembered my favourites... not great with chocolate though. He'd always get the assortments with nuts in them. He liked them, even if I didn't. He'd act like it was a mistake, but I knew better. His sweet tooth was always bigger than mine."

They were silent after that. Deacon sat up, reached across for the bottle. He poured himself a half glass, but only held it, staring at the amber liquid.

"Is it my turn to ask if you're ok?" She nudged him with her shoulder, feeling worried. It was as if something had gone wrong without her even realizing it had happened.

"Danse might be a better option for you. I feel like he's the type to never forget an anniversary. Probably be ok with flowers too."

"Danse?! Deacon, are you serious?" She shoved him a bit harder this time, tucking her feet under her as she turned in her seat to face him. He was swirling the glass gently, still peering into the depths. "Danse is so not my type."

"He's an army guy. Like Nate was. I thought it was an ok guess."

Tension was building around them and Nora didn't like it. She needed to distract. Moving quickly, she snatched the glass from his hand as he raised it to his mouth. "Hey!" He finally turned to her, expression unreadable. She gulped down the drink in one go, coughing as it burned its way down her throat. "I thought you'd said you had enough."

"I did. But if you're going to make me picture Danse in the bedroom, all bets are off. I need a drink to manage that image."

Finally, he cracked a smile. Her insides settled, nerves smoothing over just a little. "Sorry. Like I said, I took a guess. You said you wanted flowers and chocolates, he seems the guy for that, that's all."

"So does Preston, but I'm not about to go and date him."

"What on earth IS your type?" She couldn't help but giggle at his puzzled expression. She knew there was nothing Deacon hated more than being wrong. "I've never seen you make eyes at anyone, no matter where we've traveled, who we've spoken too... You've never once batted those eyes for anything other than information and subterfuge."

That last glass had done it. She felt safe and warm, here with the man she trusted most in the entire Commonwealth. She felt... chatty.

"Maybe I did, and you just missed it." She felt bold, even though she knew it was fake. A voice inside her was screaming to shut up, but it felt good, being modern. Being open. "Besides, ladies like me were taught to be subtle with our signs of attraction, so if you never noticed, I was doing it correctly. We were prey to be hunted, never the other way around. Well, except for Sadie Hawkins."

"Who was she?"

"Just someone from a time we'll never get back... which is a good thing or we'd never be having this conversation..." she trailed off, looking up at the water-stained ceiling for a moment before continuing her train of thought. "The problem is, they would be much too nice."

"Sadie?"

"No, Preston! Preston and Dance. They would be nice in bed."

He took his glass back and poured himself the drink she had stolen. He drank, and then set the rest on the edge of the coffee table, closest to him, furthest from her. "So.. you like flowers and chocolates in public... and... not flowers and chocolate..." His turn to let his words fade out.

"I told you. I don't have much of a sweet tooth." She grinned, propelled by liquor. "I was never like the other girls. They didn't think It could be any fun, you know."

"It?"

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Sex, silly. But I knew it could. You just had to be lucky and find someone who liked it the same way you did."

"It being... sex."

"Are... are you blushing?! You started this conversation!"

He nodded, oddly serious. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully. "To be fair, I didn't think it would take this particular turn."

Nora snorted, her head suddenly a bit heavy. Trying to act before she could think, she scooted over a little, her shoulder just touching his. She felt him stiffen, just slightly. All she wanted was to lay her head right there, in that little nook... then she could trail a hand down, over his chest, maybe undo a button or two...

"Oh my God, Deacon. I'm drunk."

"Yeah, me too."

Again, she felt distraction was needed. Again, she reached out to take something from him, but his hands were faster this time. He clasped her wrists firmly, stopping her inches from his face. "Nope. Not gonna happen."

"But my hands are grabby and I want them." She eyed his sunglasses as if they were made of pure gold.

"I don't think whiskey is your drink."

"I already know the secret. I won't tell anyone."

"What secret? That these are X-Ray specs?" His grin was too quick.

"No. I know your eyes are blue."

His face quickly became a blank slate. It was as if he stopped breathing. It took a long time before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was quiet. "Excuse me?"

"Your eyes. I know that they're blue. Remember, the super mutants? The ones with the bazooka? They knocked me out and you were there, and you screaming my name above me. They blew them right off your face, and into the dirt but you didn't notice right away. But I did. I noticed. I noticed they were blue."

"Nora."

"The same colour as the sky."

He swore gently under his breath.

"Deacon?"

He let go of her wrists. His hands moved past them to rest against her cheeks, to cup the back of her head. Her own eyes fluttered shut as his fingertips traced her jawline.

"Nora." He sounded slightly horse. "Nora... do you.. I... Fuck, Nora, I really, really want to kiss you right now."

He'd never seen her smile so brightly.

That was all he needed.

The sunglasses landed somewhere on the floor.


End file.
